On days like today, when I really can't stand this town and it's pathetic smallness, at least I have etsy.com to fall back on for escapism. And a good air hockey game with Sean. And an amusing Iraqi landlord with stories to rival any of this town's sorry-ass drama queen BS.
I'm not normally so negative. Check that. I am frequently given to fits of negativity, I just don't usually surrender to it like I have today. The fact is this: I now work and live within about a mile radius near the water. I blew up my MySpace account, and I rarely go out and drink with the best--and worst--of them anymore. I am no longer viscerally or virtually connected to a large group of people who, for the most part, weren't my friends. There are many genuine people out there, I know that. But right now, the deletion of that account has separated the friends from the phonies. This was an unintended consequence of deleting that silly account. It's been interesting to see how being less obviously accessible online has affected relationships that came to be entirely dependent upon the Internet. I miss the people, but not that medium.
I guess it comes down to the quality vs. quantity factor.
I spent some time with Summer on Saturday. She said that MySpace was less "exciting" without me there. I was flattered and touched, because I knew what she was getting at. But frankly, the two hours I spent at her house getting dolled up and posing for a retro pin-up photo session were more exciting than any lame-ass survey or silly comment pic MySpace has to offer. Those couple of hours were a freakin' blast. If I hadn't had to leave (the kids were coming home from a night at dad's), I would have stayed and helped out with the shoot that afternoon. I enjoyed just being at Summer's place with lots of women and vintage clothes and makeup all around. I NEEDED that. The great gifts in life really are all in the little moments.
And while we're on the positive:
Tonight the kids laughed so hard while taking their bath that I thought they would hurt themselves. We read long stories at bedtime, after the kids were played dress-up and Sean beat me at air hockey. (His win was a major consolation to his loss at bowling yesterday.) Everyone hugged the dog tightly tonight, and lots of Eskimo kisses were given when the lights went out.
In other news, Grandma's ADVANCED liver cancer is receding, if that is a way to phrase it. She still has cancer, but the minidose of chemo she's receiving has shrunk the tumor on her liver by almost 70%. THAT IS INSANE! It's such good news. Six months ago they gave her six months to live. And no one was surprised. She was in bad shape. Now? She'll be 79 next month. She tries to get out for a mile or two walk when she can with her girlfriends. After worrying we wouldn't see Christmas with her, we're now planning Easter together. And she will hopefully be there to see all the bulbs she and I planted together last fall bloom in her backyard. She tries to savor ever minute, every conversation, every flavor on her plate while she's still here.
And today was so beautiful. I sped home for 20 minutes at lunch to walk the dog. The air was so amazing. I could smell spring. I could smell all those new beginnings. I could smell summer right behind it. I could smell the ocean. I wanted to run, and run, and run and not stop until something stopped me. I wanted to feel every step hit the pavement, hear every footfall kiss the ground, see the neighborhood's every yard and fence and pink flamingo and Mary in the bathtub through watery eyes, tearing up from the wind against my face. I wanted to feel my heart pounding so hard it might burst through my chest. I wanted to sweat until there wasn't a single cranky droplet left in my body. I wanted to be moving, away from the computer, away from the idea of "belonging" to anything other than my own amazing life, whatever it is, whoever chooses to be in it today, and whatever it brings.
Winter is almost over.